


here, hold my breath

by somehowunbroken



Series: sleep tight [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Noah's seen a lot. He's heard more. He's got a lot of information, is what he's saying, and occasionally he has to use it. A breaker's gotta do what a breaker's gotta do.





	here, hold my breath

**Author's Note:**

> it's... been a while since i updated this series. whoops.
> 
> thanks to J. and S. for their beta input! i make typos and they fix them. it's great. they also point out when i forget to, like, identify who i'm talking about, so i can do a better job introducing my characters. WHOOPS.
> 
> title is from the spoken-word poem ["in landscape" by buddy wakefield](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1Z6ukukO_k), which i highly, highly recommend listening to.

Noah has always been good at breaking things.

When he was two, it had been his mother's favorite lamp; at four, it had been the frame of his bedroom door. At age seven, he'd snapped a hockey stick during a game and watched as the pieces slid across the ice to trip someone on the other team. The doctor had told Noah that the other kid's broken leg wasn't his fault.

Noah's seventeen now. He still doesn't buy it.

He'd learned to channel it, though. Soon after the hockey stick incident, his parents had brought him to a practitioner's office, and Noah had sat very still while the woman examined his hands and asked him to follow the soft light she'd made appear in the air while it zoomed around the room. When it stopped right in front of him, she'd told him to put it out, and Noah had leaned forward and blown on it like it was a candle.

He still remembers the way his mother had gasped.

Noah's from a family of casters, is the thing. It's not like it actually runs in families that way, not really, but both of his parents are casters, and their parents and siblings are, too. Noah's brother and sister are also casters, they'd found out later. Other than a great-uncle on his dad's side, Noah's the only breaker they can find in their family.

He'd added magic training in with hockey training and school and being an older brother. It had all become just another part of his life, balancing all of it, until he finds himself at Boston College, trying to sign up for a breaking theory class and staring, uncomprehending, at the girl frowning across the desk at him. "What do you mean, I can't?"

"You didn't report MSAT scores on your application," she replies patiently, pushing a brochure at him. She taps at something on it, and he glances down, seeing the word _prerequisites_ under her finger. He looks back up as she goes on. "I can put you in the intro class, but anything higher than that—"

"I've been studying since I was a kid," Noah cuts in. "I got in with an athletic scholarship, so I didn't take the MSAT. The intro class will be useless for me, though."

"Without an MSAT score," she says again, and Noah sighs.

"Nevermind," he says. He's here for hockey, and he knows he's good enough to get drafted pretty high, no matter what Eichs says. Eichs can be kind of a dick; it's fitting that he's now the enemy, even if they are pretty good friends most of the time. "Just put me in, like, an intro history class."

He can worry about his degree later. After hockey.

-0-

Noah plays his ass off at BC. They don't win it all, but they have a good season. It's something Noah can be proud of, anyway.

The draft comes more quickly than he thought it would. It's fun; all the pre-draft media stuff is cool, and it's awesome to bond with some of the other top prospects, even if he knows he won't be playing with any of them.

He goes fifth to the Carolina Hurricanes. Suck it, Eichs.

Noah signs his ELC in mid-July. He's always looked good in red.

-0-

The NHL is as tiring as it is exhilarating. In the quiet of his own mind, Noah thinks that maybe he wasn't as ready for it as he thought he was; maybe he would have been better off going back to get a little more seasoning at BC, and then tearing it up next year. He can't imagine how any of them are doing it, really, not him and not Eichs and not Davo.

He sees the news on a highlight reel in November, just like everyone else does, and his first instinct is to call Davo. He manages not to; there are a lot of people he'd want to hear from before Noah, and by the time he gets his phone in his hand he's already dialling someone else anyway. 

"I know," Konecny says when he answers. His voice is tight, unhappy, and Noah can almost feel his magic crackling over the line. "I can't _do_ anything, Hanny. They sent me back."

"I just," Noah says, breathing as evenly as he can as he watches Davo skid into the boards again and again. "You were at camp with these guys. Is there any chance—"

"I don't know," Konency says. He hesitates a little. "Look, I don't know if there's anything to it, but Law heard from Marns that there's something weird in Edmonton."

Noah takes a deep breath, feeling the magic swirl in his lungs. "Weird how?"

"I don't know, and I don't think I want to," Konency replies, laughing a little uncomfortably. "Text Marns, eh? He can probably tell you."

"Okay," Noah says. He's staring at the television; the talking heads are going on and on about Davo. Noah's not listening to a word any of them are saying. "Thanks, TK."

"If you talk to him, tell him I said to get well soon," Konecny says quietly. "And that—next year, when I'm up, it won't happen again."

Konecny isn't a huge guy, but there's something about him that makes people pay attention, makes them listen. It's like when he speaks sometimes, whatever he says just becomes the truth. It's not magical, not quite, but it's not normal, either.

Whatever Konecny has going on, Noah believes him. "Will do," he reports, hanging up.

Marns doesn't text back right away; he's probably talking to Davo, or maybe driving to Erie so he and Stromer can panic at each other in person. Noah doesn't get what's going on there, but then again, he doesn't need to. He sticks his phone in his pocket and stands, walking into the kitchen.

Brennan smiles at him, and Noah instantly feels a little better. He'd felt a little weird about sort of living with billets again, but moving into the Gerbe household is the best decision he's made since signing his ELC. Brennan pushes a steaming mug towards him. "I made you some cocoa."

"Thanks," Noah says, wrapping his hands around the mug. It's too warm; Brennan is in the habit of putting heating charms on everything because Gerbs likes everything piping hot. Noah gathers his magic and blows the charm away, and half a second later, the mug cools to just the right temperature. He inhales deeply, the chocolate and hint of cinnamon calming him even further. "You're the best, Bren."

"And don't you forget it," she says gently, smiling. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend, Noah."

"Thanks," he says, sighing a little. He sips at the cocoa and lets his thoughts wander. They haven't played in Edmonton yet; he doesn't have the entire schedule memorised, but he's pretty sure they don't go to Alberta until the new year. Whatever weird thing is going on in Edmonton is beyond him. Hopefully it's fixed before he has to play there.

"Hey," Brennan says, touching his shoulder. "If you want more cocoa, come find me."

"I will, thanks," Noah says, smiling briefly at her.

He pulls his phone out when she walks away. There's a text from Marns, and Noah takes another sip of cocoa before he opens it up. One word stares back at him.

_curse._

Well, Noah thinks. Shit.

-0-

Noah puts his head down and plays; there's nothing he can do from Carolina, and by the time Marns and Stromer figure out that the curse is actually some sort of creepy Gretzky-related demon thing, Noah has just enough time to find and fill the holes in his own warding before they roll into Edmonton. He doesn't see Davo at the rink, and they're not close enough for Noah to call, not really. He doesn't know what he'd say, anyway.

He does, however, do his best to peer through the warding on the curse-slash-demon mark on the ice at Rexall after morning skate. The warding isn't that hard to feel, but it's incredibly hard to bend; Noah doesn't really want to break it, lest someone figure out that he's been nosing around, but he's desperately curious. Besides, if he can get a look at it, he might be able to give Marns some last-minute insight before he and Stromer make their grand gesture of Davo BFFness by flying to Edmonton and hopefully not getting themselves killed.

He finds the smallest of the wards, something that's not structural, and focuses on it. His magic responds instantly, filling his lungs until he's almost dizzy with it, and he breathes out gently, nudging the ward aside. It doesn't want to move, so Noah takes a deeper breath and blows out steady and smooth, feeling out the shape of the ward and breathing his magic into the cracks and creases. It grudgingly gives way with a sound Noah's not sure anyone else would hear.

It's not like he can suddenly see everything, but as soon as the ward gives, there's a feeling like nausea rolling at him from center ice. There's something sharp and staticky there, something he feels like he could see if he looked long enough, and suddenly the rest of the wards are groaning, shifting ominously as whatever they're containing roils against them. Noah flails backwards, sucking in a breath, and he's sorry as soon as he does it. The taste is foul, oil-slick and rotten, and Noah has to close his eyes and focus on the air right around him until he feels like he can breathe without being sick.

"You okay, Hanny?" someone asks softly from behind him. Noah nods without turning, and he hears the person walk closer. A hand lands on his shoulder and Noah sags immediately as Skinner's magic wraps around him, a protective barrier that Noah doesn't know how to thank him for.

"What the fuck," Noah sighs out, letting Skinner grab his wrist and pull him away from the ice. "What the fuck, Skinny."

"Edmonton," Skinner replies simply, as if that should be enough of an answer for anyone. "Now you know. You don't need to look again."

"I need, like, twelve showers," Noah grumbles, finally opening his eyes as the door to the ice shuts behind them. They're in the locker room, and Noah has never before been so glad for the way each part of a rink has separate warding.

"Luckily, this is a locker room," Skinner says, smiling at him and pointing. "You can probably take at least five before the hot water runs out."

Noah laughs a little and shakes his head. "I'll get started on that, I guess," he says, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it into the laundry bin. "Thanks, Skinny."

"You're welcome," Skinner replies. "I'm gonna go find someone and tell them something's up with the ice-level wards. I'll be back before you're done with all your showering, probably, but if I'm not, wait for me." He laughs a little. "I, uh. I told the guys you and I were hanging back to do some one-on-one drills when I saw you sneaking off, so we should probably be in the same cab back to the hotel."

"You're the best," Noah says, smiling.

"Don't you forget it," Skinner replies, giving him a serious look and finger guns at the same time. It's so effortlessly Skinner that Noah has to laugh as he heads into the shower.

-0-

Marns thanks Noah when he suggests giving Davo a physical breaking point; Noah has no idea what kind of demon could be behind the mark he'd seen, but he's willing to bet it's something that could sap all the magic that Marns and Stromer have between them. Having an exit strategy is never a bad plan, and Noah figures that goes double when you're dealing with a demon.

They break the curse; it doesn't really show in the Oilers' season, but it shows in their players. To people who don't know, it probably looks like they're just enjoying having Davo back, but Noah knows what it looks like to play with relief, with the knowledge that what you're doing is the best that you can do and you're happy enough with that.

Noah doesn't ask for details. He doesn't need to know, and he doesn't want to bring it up.

Summer is fun; it's longer than he wanted it to be, for sure, but he knew going into Carolina that it was going to be an uphill battle for a while. You don't go high in the draft to a team that knows what they're doing, not unless you happen to hit Montreal in a weird year. He hangs around home and shoots the shit with Eichs, who had a way worse year than Noah had had, and Coyle, who mutters darkly about his division for almost three weeks before he finally unwinds. Noah splits his time between relaxing and working out, and in his spare time, he looks around online for information on demon marks and curses. Sure, the Three Musketeers banished the thing in Edmonton; that doesn't mean that demons at large are going to up and leave the planet alone. Noah would rather be prepared, and he doesn't think that's a crime.

Noah feels fresh heading into the season. Not everyone is so lucky; the World Cup kind of fucked with everyone, and it's not hard to pick out the guys who've already been playing for a month at the start of the season. Noah can and does work with it, though, settling into his groove and playing like he means it. They may have lost their captain, but that doesn't mean they don't have a team that's worth something. Noah intends to help them prove it.

It's awesome that a lot of his friends make it up, too. Marns and Stromer are way less likely to get into the demon kind of trouble if they're playing a full NHL season, and it's cool to see Matthews make it without missing a beat. Noah's not looking forward to having to defend against him, but at the same time, it's an exhilarating thought.

They don't exactly burst out of the gate running, though. It's a frustrating tug of war between wins and losses, and magic doesn't come with any sort of precognitive powers, but Noah knows by the end of November that this isn't going to be their year. It's frustrating, knowing that he's going to play his ass off over the next five months for nothing, but he'll do everything he can. He'll get better, and next year they'll all be better. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, holding the air in his lungs. They'll be _better_ , he tells himself.

"Getting ready to hex us all into oblivion?" Skinner asks as he flops into the stall beside Noah's. "I wouldn't blame you, not after a practice like that."

Noah lets his breath out slowly, then turns to Skinner. "I'm a breaker," he says patiently. Skinner is well aware of this. "And besides, not every breath I take is magic. Sometimes breathing is just breathing."

"Good to know," Skinner says. He smiles and his ridiculous dimples pop, but there's something about it that doesn't reach his eyes. Noah stares at him for a few seconds until it hits him: Skinner knows it, too. He can look at the team around them and see what Noah can: that they're all good, but they're not good _enough_.

"We'll get there," Noah says, finally breaking their gaze. "It'll take time, but we're working on it."

"We are," Skinner says. He sounds tired, and when Noah glances back over, his head is tilted back in the stall. "I'm happy for Eric, but at the same time part of me wants to wring his neck. He'll make it this year, and we're here."

"But he's in Minnesota," Noah feels compelled to point out. "No jealousy here, trust me, playoffs or no playoffs."

Skinner turns his smile on Noah again. "You might have a point, Hanny."

"I always have a point," Noah says loftily. "They teach you to have a point when you go to college."

"You're so full of shit," Skinner says, clearly delighted. "The only thing you learned in college was how to have a proper rivalry."

Noah rolls his eyes. "You let me know when I need to break out that particular knowledge, Skinny."

"I will," Skinner promises. He glances around the locker room; most of the guys are gone, home to eat and nap before their game tonight. Skinner looks back at Noah. "Can I buy you lunch? I have… There's something I need to ask you."

Noah lets his eyebrows go up into his hairline. "Okay," he drawls, pulling it out to at least three syllables. "Can I get a hint?"

"Edmonton," Skinner says, and that makes Noah sit up straighter.

"Edmonton," he echoes. "Yeah, okay. Let's get lunch."

-0-

"I heard from Nuge that you helped fix the whole…" Skinner says vaguely, waving his hand in the air. "Thing. Last year."

Noah blinks. "I didn't know you and Nuge were friends," he says. "And, uh. I had some last-minute input, but that was really all Stromer and Marns."

"I know Gabe Landeskog, and Gabe knows everyone and everything," Skinner says, shrugging. "So you don't know anything about it?"

"Some," Noah allows. He hadn't ever asked, but he hadn't hung up when the phone calls had come in, either. Sometimes it's good to talk to someone who wasn't super involved, or so Stromer had told him over the summer. Hearing about Puck has been intensely creepy, but Noah's picked up a lot, too. "Why, got an issue?"

Skinner hesitates. "Not really," he says after a moment. "Got a weird feeling, though."

"About us?" Noah asks, leaning back as the waitress brings their food over. He smiles and thanks her as she sets it down, then turns back to Skinner. "I don't think there's anything weird going on here. I think we're just not getting it."

"No, not us," Skinner says. He's focusing pretty hard on pouring his dressing onto his salad. He doesn't look up when he speaks. "I know it's not a widely accepted thing, but sometimes people in my family just… know things."

"Know things," Noah echoes. He flashes back to the thought he'd had in the locker room, about how magic doesn't let you see the future. "What kind of things?"

"Not if we're going to win or lose tonight, if that's what you're thinking," Skinner replies, shooting him a brief smile before focusing back on his food. "It's sort of like… Did you take any classes in college that were hard for you, that you didn't really get?"

"Yeah," Noah says, shrugging a little. "Turns out that math? Not my thing."

"Okay, so, imagine you're doing homework, and you can't figure out the solution to the problem," Skinner says.

Noah snorts. "So, like, all of February. Got it."

Skinner looks up, and this time he doesn't immediately glance away again. "Imagine waking up the first day of March and knowing the answer to every problem. You don't know how you know, you can't show your work or whatever, but you're never wrong."

"That would have been incredibly useful," Noah says. "Also very weird."

"It's a thing in my family," Skinner repeats. "My dad and grandma and two of my sisters have it, too. Sometimes we just wake up, and we know something that we didn't know when we went to bed."

Noah nods, thinking. He pushes his food around his plate, trying to process the information. It's not like people talk about families that have, over the years, had some not-quite-human genes mixed into the family tree, but it's one of the mostly-understood truths of life. Noah's never met someone with an outside ability, except maybe TK, but it's not like Skinner's story is completely unbelievable.

"Okay," he finally says, looking back up at Skinner. "So. Sometimes you know things, and you're asking me about Edmonton."

Skinner slumps back a little in my seat. "That went better than it has in the past," he says, crooking half a smile at Noah. "Thanks for not calling me insane. Or worse."

"You're welcome," Noah says, grinning. "Edmonton?"

"It's not Edmonton," Skinner says slowly. "Not _in_ Edmonton."

"Is it Edmonton's _thing_?" Noah asks, leaning in. "Because Stromer and Marns said they locked it in there, and there's no way for it to claw its way out."

Skinner sighs. "I woke up three days ago knowing that something bad was going to happen in the league. When I woke up this morning, all I could think about was a demon." He shrugs a little. "When you have an ability like mine, you learn to put the pieces together."

"Shit," Noah mutters. He's no longer hungry. "That thing busted Marns up."

"There are a ton of different demons out there," Skinner says, shrugging again. "Chances are way better that it'll be something different, when we figure out what it is."

"And in the meantime, you want to know what I know about casting demons out," Noah finishes.

Skinner nods. "If you know anything, maybe we can be a little more prepared when we run into whatever we're gonna run into."

"I don't know much," Noah says, shifting in his seat. "I know that Stromer and Marns pulled Davo into its dimension, and they figured out how to break its connection to Rexall. They brought a breaking point in with them just in case. That's pretty much the story I got." He hesitates a little. "They called it Puck."

"Damn," Skinner says, sighing. "Okay, well, you felt the mark at Rexall, and everyone in that place knew about the warding. Maybe we can focus on that, see if we notice anything starting in those veins."

"Do you think it's going to be here?" Noah asks, looking at Skinner intently.

Skinner's gaze goes far away, like he's reading something in the distance that nobody else can see. "No," he finally says. "I think we're safe. And I don't think it'll be in Edmonton again."

Noah nods. "Two down, twenty-eight to go," he says.

"Twenty-nine," Skinner corrects, grinning a little as he focuses back on Noah. "Don't forget the Las Vegas Some Sort Of Knights."

"With a name like that, how could I forget?" Noah asks dryly. "Please tell me. I've been trying to forget for a month now."

"We'll know the real name soon," Skinner says, rolling his eyes. "Then we'll never be able to forget."

"No," Noah whines. "Once you name it, you have to keep it."

"Naming a thing gives it power," Skinner agrees. "Maybe if we know, we'll be able to use it to beat them."

Noah laughs a little. "Like they're not already putting warding into every ounce of that building."

"Oh, they definitely are," Skinner says breezily. "I'd say we can take it off the list preemptively, but I don't want to do that. Not yet."

"Yeah, not yet," Noah agrees. "We'll cross them off as we come to them."

-0-

Noah doesn't want to alarm anyone, so even though he's got friends on a bunch of other teams, he doesn't send out an SOS. It would be kind of hard to explain anyway; Skinner was really underselling it when he said that his future-knowing thing wouldn't be widely accepted.

He thinks it over for a while before deciding, the day after Christmas, to talk to Marns about it. Marns has experience with the whole demon thing, so he'll probably have some insight. Maybe.

"Hey," Stromer answers when Noah calls. He blinks a few times; there's no way he called the wrong number. "Sup, Hanny."

"Is Marns there?" Noah asks cautiously.

"Did he seriously," Stromer starts, then cuts himself off. There's a rustling noise, and then Noah hears muffled shouting. "Mitch! Did you change your ringtone to be the same as mine?" There's a pause, and then, "Again?"

"Why," Noah says despairingly. "Why are my friends like this?"

"I love you and I want you to be happy," Mitch singsongs in the background. "So I'm taking your ringtone with me when I head back to Toronto."

"Babe," Stromer says fondly.

Noah coughs as loudly as he can into his phone.

"Uh," Stromer says. "It's Hanny, by the way."

"Hanny!" Marns crows. There's the sound of scuffling, and then the staticky sound of a speakerphone moving through the air. "You're on speaker. What's up? Merry Christmas!"

Noah rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Merry Christmas," he replies. "I, uh. I wanted to talk to you, Marns, but I guess it's good that Stromer's there, too."

"I honestly don't have a guess as to where this conversation is going," Stromer says after a moment. "Do you want relationship advice? Because, like, we're mind-melded, so I don't think we're gonna be able to help you and…" He pauses. "Eichs?"

Noah starts laughing so hard he almost drops his phone. "Oh my _god_ , no."

"Oh, oh, let me guess," Marns cuts in. "What's his name, the guy with super short hair on the Wild."

"Coyle," Stromer supplies. "Chris? No, wait. Charlie."

"Stop," Noah says, wheezing a little.

"Hmm," Marns says. "Maybe someone on your team? I guess Teravainen's kinda cute, if you're into the whole blond thing."

"I don't need relationship advice," Noah manages, wiping at his face. " _Eichs_ , oh my god. He's like my really annoying little brother, but that's as far as that goes."

"Isn't he, like, two months older than you are?" Stromer asks, clearly amused.

"I can take him," Noah says loftily. "That makes him the little brother."

"I vote you get to tell Ryan that he's being demoted," Stromer says. "Send me video."

"Me too," Marns adds. "Or, well. I'll probably know anyway."

"You guys are the kings of overshare with each other," Noah comments. "Why am I not surprised?"

There's a moment of silence, and then Stromer coughs a little. "Uh, remember before when I said we were mind-melded?"

"Yes," Noah replies slowly.

"Not exaggerating," Marns says. "Don't ask either one of us to explain it. We can, sort of, but there's an actual fairy tale involved."

"Yeah, okay," Noah says, blinking fast. If he can roll with Skinner sort of being able to know the future, then he can deal with two of his friends being joined at the brain. "That's… weird, but you do you, I guess."

Marns snorts. "Eloquent, but thanks anyway."

"That's what I'm here for," Noah says cheerily. Thinking about Skinner reminds him of his reason for calling, though, and it sobers him quickly. "I did have a question for you. Both of you, I guess."

"Shoot," Stromer says.

Noah takes a deep breath. "Davo's demon," he says. "What can you tell me?"

"Fuck," Marns says, all traces of humor gone from his voice. "You found it again? Who the fuck let it out?"

"No, no," Noah say hastily. "It's… look, it's kind of weird? But I know a guy who… knows things."

"Knows things," Stromer echoes. "Knows what things? How?"

"I don't know how, and it's not really specific," Noah hedges. "But he says something demon-related is gonna happen. Might already be happening. We've got a list of six teams it's not related to, but that leaves a lot of options."

"Something demon-related," Marns says. "That's just great. That's… six? Who's safe?"

Noah breathes out and slumps against his bed a little. It's a lot easier to not have to convince them. "Us, Edmonton, Dallas, Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and Philadelphia," he says, ticking them off on his fingers. "We figured it out in November, and we've been paying attention on roadies since then."

There's a moment of silence before Marns lets out a breath. "You were in Toronto like three weeks ago, Hanny."

"I know," Noah says, closing his eyes. "I'm not saying it's you guys, but I can't say it's _not_ you guys."

"Goddamn," Stromer mutters. "Babe, we're working on your warding before you leave."

"Good," Marns says. "So, what, the Eastern Conference is safe, and Davo gets a pass because been there, done that, but the rest of the West except Dallas is on demon notice?"

Noah blinks his eyes open. "Shit, you're right," he breathes out. "Anaheim didn't give us anything either. Maybe that's actually significant."

"Patterns," Marns says, and Noah can almost hear him waving his hand in the air. "Stromer's great at them, so now I'm good at them sometimes."

"I don't know what kind of advice we can really give you," Stromer says. He sounds disappointed. "Like, demon prevention? Not exactly our thing. Neither is getting rid of one, even though we managed it." He hesitates before breathing out heavily. "Is there a reason you and whoever your friend is haven't told anyone higher up about this?"

There's no judgement in his voice, and really, thank the hockey gods for Dylan Strome. "We don't have a lot to go on other than 'something is going to happen,'" Noah says. "We don't know when or where; we don't even know exactly what, just that a demon's involved. Who would we tell, and what would we tell them?"

"No, you're right," Stromer says, sighing. "But now Marns and I can be on the lookout too." He pauses a moment, then asks, "Can I tell the Edmonton guys? They know a lot about demons and whatever. They'll want to help."

"If they'll believe it, then yeah," Noah says. "The more people trying to figure out what's going on, the better."

Marns sighs. "You'd think we'd all be warded enough against this shit," he says wearily. "You'd think the League would have put something in place, after Edmonton."

"You'd think," Noah agrees. "But the day the League actually gives a shit about player safety…"

"Yeah, point," Marns agrees. "Okay. We'll keep our eyes open and poke around everywhere we go, and we'll have Nuge and Ebs do it, too. We'll figure this out, Hanny." He sounds confident. "Let us know if your friend figures anything else out, okay? It's hard to solve a puzzle when you're missing pieces."

"Will do," Noah promises. "Thanks, guys. Happy New Year."

"You too," Stromer replies. "Talk to you later."

Noah hangs up feeling much better about things than he had before he called.

-0-

Noah tells Skinner what Stromer had said about East versus West, and a few days later, Skinner confirms it. "It doesn't always work that way," he warns, smiling a little. "It's not like you can ask me if it's Vancouver and I can tell you yes or no."

"I know," Noah says, smiling back. It's pretty automatic at this point. "That takes care of half the League, though. We can figure it out from here."

"We're working on it," Skinner agrees. "And so are your guys."

"Yeah," Noah confirms. He'd heard from Stromer last night, tiredly telling him the only thing remotely demonic in Calgary was Matt Tkachuk, "and he's just an asshole, I promise, not an actual demon." It's not that Noah doesn't understand the concept of juniors rivalries spilling over into the NHL, but Stromer plays with Dvorak and is dating Marns, so Noah doesn't get the Tkachuk thing. It's not his place to ask, though, so he doesn't.

"We'll figure it out," Skinner promises. They're in a hotel in Tampa Bay, resting after the loss before flying back to Carolina tonight, and Skinner looks like he wants to nap from now until they have get leave for the airport. He's not sitting on his bed yawning, but Noah knows that if he was in his own room, Skinner would be asleep.

"I'm gonna head back to mine and make Aho watch the Centennial Classic with me," Noah says, standing.

"Stay," Skinner says, scooting up on his bed. "Put it on. We can cheer for your boy Marner."

"He's not _my_ boy," Noah says before he can stop himself. Skinner just smiles at him and pats the bed again, so Noah sits as Skinner grabs the remote and turns the television on. Before he can stop himself, Noah blurts out, "I'm currently boy-less. And, uh, girl-less."

"Really?" Skinner says, sounding honestly surprised. "I was teasing about Marner. I know about him and Strome."

"You do?" Noah asks, equally surprised. They're not subtle, but they're not dancing in the streets with rainbow flags, either.

"Gabe," Skinner says, shrugging. "He knows—"

"—everything," Noah finishes. "So you've said."

"Don't let him know I said it, though," Skinner says with a smile. "But yeah, I was teasing. I did think you probably had someone, though."

"I spend all of my time eating, sleeping, playing hockey, and demon hunting with you," Noah points out. "Unless our relationship has taken a step that you forgot to tell me about, Skinny, I'm still single."

Skinner laughs, and the tips of his ears go red. Noah notices, but he doesn't ask, doesn't push. Skinner will say something or he won't, and Noah will make his play based on that. He's already made a move here, sort of.

So relationships might not be his strong suit. He's a demon-hunting hockey player; he's giving himself a pass on that for now.

"The game," Skinner says, gesturing to the screen.

They watch, sort of entranced, as the pre-game ceremonies go on; it's amazing how magic and technology can work together, Noah thinks absently as the fireworks go off and loop their way through the air. It's tricky, precise work, and it's really stunning to watch. He can't wait to see what the post-game stuff looks like; the celebrations are always the best.

"Man, who do we have to charm to get to play in an outdoor game?" Skinner asks a little dreamily as the puck drops. He dances his fingers through the air lazily, making it shimmer in front of him. "It's like shinny for grown-ups."

"It's like shinny for pay," Noah corrects, blowing at the shimmering air until it bursts and dissipates. It makes Skinner turn and grin at him. "I'm technically a grown-up, and I still play actual shinny when I can."

"Which is never, since we live in Raleigh," Skinner says, sighing and blinking slowly. He really must be tired, Noah notes, because he droops a little towards Noah. "Doesn't stay cold enough for long enough."

"Next winter we can go to my parents' over Christmas," Noah says spontaneously. "It's definitely cold enough, and there are enough people to make it fun."

Skinner smiles up at him, soft and wide, and Noah thinks, oh, _oh_. "It's a date," Skinner says, holding Noah's gaze confidently.

Noah swallows and nods a little. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Sounds good."

Skinner just nods and yawns. The game isn't helping; it's a whole lot of nothing going on, so Noah grabs the remote and turns it down. "Hey, sleep," Noah says quietly. "Gotta nap so you have a good flight home later."

It makes Skinner smile again. "I got this," he mumbles, sliding down the bed and nestling his head on the pillow right next to Noah's hip. "Go Leafs."

Noah laughs a little. "Sleep," he repeats. He can't cast a sleeping charm or anything, but he lays his hand on Skinner's shoulder and thinks about being awake, about alertness and worries and stray thoughts, and he blows it all gently away until Skinner's breathing is deep and even, eyes closed.

Maybe Noah should move his hand, but he doesn't.

-0-

They cross teams off one by one. It's a little exhausting; Noah knows what the Edmonton curse mark felt like, but curse marks can be pretty much anything. He mistakes an old ward for a curse mark in Chicago; Skinner is half-convinced he feels something from the Kings when they roll into Carolina, but it turns out to be something related to preventing them from catching the mumps, which are inexplicably going around again.

"We're running out of teams," Noah says after they play in Dallas in mid-February. "Maybe this is a warning for, like five years down the road. Maybe there's nothing here for us to find now."

"It's now," Skinner says with certainty. His eyes go wide and he blinks rapidly, staring at Noah. "That's—I've never had it happen like that."

"Wait," Noah says, leaning in. "It's—you _know_? Right now?"

Skinner nods. "It's always been while I was sleeping," he says, flexing his fingers. " _Always_. I think it's been that way for my family, too."

"Okay," Noah says, nodding a little and leaning back. "Okay, it's now. And you know in the middle of the day, and that's never happened before."

"We need to figure this out soon," Skinner says. He sounds a little shaken, and Noah takes a deep breath and reaches for Skinner's wrist, making the air swirl around him. He pushes air between Skinner and the tangle of anxiety around him, and Skinner sighs and slumps into his side.

"Let's shower and go back to the hotel," Noah suggests. "Maybe you can call your sister. Does she have a game today?"

"No," Skinner mumbles. "Puttin' me to sleep, Hanny."

"Oh," Noah says, startled, dropping Skinner's wrist. It takes him a moment, but Skinner shoves himself up and rolls his shoulders, giving Noah a smile. "I didn't know I could do that."

"Undoing something is still doing something," Skinner says, leaning down to unlace his skates.

It makes Noah freeze a little; he's never thought about it that way, but it does make sense. It goes against a lot of what he'd learned as a kid, how breakers break while casters cast, but then he thinks about the doorframe when he was really little, about the way he blows charms off of Brennan's cocoa. He's undoing what others have made, but that's… doing something.

"Huh," he says out loud, as if his views on magic aren't shifting beneath him.

Skinner shoots him a smile. "There's a little Gabe wisdom for you. _Please_ don't mention it when he's here next game."

It startles a laugh out of Noah, and he reaches to start un-taping his socks. "My lips are sealed," he promises.

They shower and change and head back to the hotel; they're up against their bye week, so they've got an extra night in the hotel before heading back to Carolina in the morning. It's nice to get a little rest, even though Noah's not doing anything terribly exciting with his time off. Skinner does indeed call his sister, so Noah watches Discovery Channel on mute and lets the sound of the conversation wash over him. He likes this, likes the way Skinner's voice floats on the air, vibrates it when he laughs. Skinner doesn't have the kind of voice a lot of people go crazy over, but Noah… enjoys it. It's centering in some way, grounding.

Skinner pokes him in the thigh after a while, and Noah surfaces from his thoughts to turn his head. "Jilly says hi," he says, smiling. He looks a lot better than he had in the locker room.

"Hi, Jilly,' Noah says obediently. They've only met face-to-face once, but Noah's impression had been of someone who expects no bullshit from life and somehow manages to get her way. He likes her immensely. "How's Mercyhurst?"

Skinner relays the question, then smiles. "Cold," he reports.

"Tell her to play some shinny for us," Noah says, stretching his arms above his head. "I bet it's cold enough to play a lot of it up there."

Skinner's face goes soft. "Yeah," he says, then looks away, continuing his conversation. Noah feels a little weird about just watching him on the phone, but when Skinner looks over, he just smiles. He's not on the phone for much longer anyway, hanging up with a promise to call again soon.

"She says she's never had it happen when she's awake, either," he says, plugging his phone in. "She's never heard of it happening that way, but her theory is that it means it's super important."

"College will help you come up with theories like that," Noah says, but he can't keep his smirk hidden, mostly because Skinner starts laughing before he even gets through it. "What? College educations pay off, that's all I'm saying."

"Mr. College over here," Skinner teases, still laughing a little. "One whole year of college. You're so educated; how do you even stand being in the same room as lowly un-colleged people like me?"

Noah's smiling, but suddenly his heart is beating double-time in his chest. "I manage somehow," he says, not looking away. "I don't make exceptions for just anybody, though."

"Is that so?" Skinner replies, looking right at Noah. There's still the hint of a smile on his face, and Noah's not sure what to do with this, not sure how to get from here to where he's suddenly very, very sure he wants to be. He can't find any words at all, so he just nods.

They're pretty close together anyway, but Skinner reaches out slowly to touch the back of Noah's hand. He lets his fingers rest there until Noah steels his courage and turns his hand over, and then he laces their fingers together, smiling down at their joined hands.

"Yeah," Noah says belatedly, an answer and a comment all at once, and Skinner lifts his gaze from their hands to smile at Noah. Noah smiles back, squeezing Skinner's hand gently, and laughs a little when Skinner's dimples get even deeper.

"Yeah," Skinner confirms, scooting over and resting his head against Noah's shoulder.

Noah only hesitates a second before leaning his cheek against Skinner's head. His heart hasn't calmed down any, but it's more giddy, exhilarating, the good kind of nerves. He kind of likes it.

-0-

The off week is good; Noah goes back to visit his family for a couple of days, then wraps it up by sitting in his apartment in North Carolina and doing pretty much nothing. He's eager to get back to hockey when it starts up again, and it doesn't hurt that their first game back is against the Avs. There are no gimme games in the League, Noah knows, but the Avs are as close to one as you get. It's a little mean to think about it as easing back into things, but, well.

He doesn't notice anything at first. The Avs are playing hard, and it's all Noah can do to keep up; he's not sure if the Avs have had some sort of fire lit under them or if it's the off week making him rusty, but the easy-ish game he was expecting is kicking his ass. The Canes haven't been great in their own arena this year, but that doesn't make their eventual OT loss sting any less.

"The Avs," he groans to Skinner as they walk back down the tunnel. He's expecting a joke, maybe a shrug and a smile, but instead, Skinner frowns.

"Something was weird," he says as they get to the locker room. "Did you pick up on it?"

"No," Noah says, looking fully at Skinner. Everyone around them is getting undressed, but Noah doesn't pull his jersey off, not yet. "Weird how?"

Skinner shakes his head, still frowning. "Something was—off. Like…"

"Like it might be the Avs?" Noah finishes quietly, eyes darting around the room. Nobody's really paying them any attention, but when Noah looks back, Skinner flexes his fingers and the air around them shimmers, hardens, then fades. Noah can feel the silencing charm around them.

"Like it might be the Avs," Skinner confirms. "Like, I don't _know_ -know, but I think it's probably the Avs."

"It might explain their season," Noah says, thinking fast. "And some of the injuries."

"Their coach up and quitting right before the season started," Skinner adds. "Patrick Roy's a hell of a magician. If something moved in and he couldn't get it out…"

"He wouldn't want to be there," Noah fills in. "Maybe he's, I don't know, looking for a way to fix things."

"Well, I'm not calling Patrick Roy to ask about a maybe-demon associated with his ex-team," Skinner says, finally pulling his jersey over his head. "But I have plans to meet up with Gabe for lunch tomorrow, catch up, that kind of thing. You should come, and we should ask."

"I don't want to interrupt," Noah starts.

Skinner gives him a soft, almost shy smile. "I kind of want you to meet him?"

"Oh," Noah says. It's not something he would've asked, not this early on, but it makes something warm curl up in his chest. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good, then."

"Good," Skinner echoes. He grins then, dimples on full display. "You should shower, though. People are starting to look at us funny, and if we don't take the charm down soon, we're gonna get fined for doing something in the locker room."

"We're not doing anything!" Noah protests, laughing a little as he pulls his jersey off.

"But we _might_ be, and that's enough for the rules," Skinner replies, sitting down to start undoing his skates. "I think it's Wardo's rule. It's been on the books for longer than I've been here."

"Ages and ages," Noah says solemnly. "The Dark Ages."

"They didn't have me to smile them into cheering up," Skinner shoots back, giving Noah the brightest smile he's ever seen. "Take the charm down for me?"

Noah blows at the air until the charm dissipates, and as soon as it's gone, a chorus of wolf-whistles fills the locker room. "Pay up," someone calls, and Wardo reaches over to jingle the can. At some point, someone tossed a few coins in there just to make it rattle.

"Four minutes and forty-three seconds," Skinner says, shaking his head at Wardo. "Rules say five minutes."

"The way I timed it," Faulker starts from his stall, but Skinner rolls his wrist and a timer pops up over his shoulder. Faulker groans. "Fine, fine. All in favor of a rule change?"

There's a chorus of shouts, and Skinner laughs as he strips all the way down. "Always time yourself," he says lightly. "I learned that one the hard way."

"That sounds like an interesting story," Noah comments, tossing his pads into his stall. "Can I get a retelling?"

"That's definitely worth a fine," Staalsy warns. "Save it for later, Hanny."

"You're the opposite of fun," Noah informs him, throwing his dirty things into the laundry bin and heading for the shower. "Anti-fun Staal. That's your new name."

"Remember when he was just a rookie, and he still respected me?" Staalsy says to Faulker as Noah walks into the shower.

"No," Faulker says, raising his voice enough for Noah to hear it. "He's always pretty much been like this."

Noah grins and turns on the water.

-0-

Noah's sort of expecting there to be a black cloud or something hanging around Landeskog's head, but he smiles when he spots them in the restaurant and jumps up from the table to pull Skinner into a hug, no cloud in sight. He offers a hand for Noah to shake, and Noah's not in the least surprised when he gets tugged into a quick chest-bump hug, too. "It's nice to meet you," Landeskog says. "Skinny name-drops you. A lot."

Skinner goes bright red, but he juts his chin out. "Yeah? How's _your_ defenseman?"

"Good, good," Landeskog says blithely, sitting down. "Which one?"

Noah almost chokes on his water, and Skinner and Landeskog both laugh at him. "Uh," he says. "I'm not sure whether to say congratulations or to, like, warn you about defensemen."

Landeskog smiles, and the hair on the back of Noah's neck stands up. "I can hold my own, but thanks for your concern."

"Uh," Noah repeats, but more quietly, gaze darting to Skinner.

"Gabe is…" Skinner starts, hesitating a little.

"Not quite human," Landeskog fills in smoothly. "More than some, less than most. Definitely part, though." He waggles his eyebrows.

Skinner groans. "Can you not, maybe?" he says, almost pleading. "Just this once."

Landeskog smiles at Skinner, then at Noah. When Noah just raises an eyebrow, Landeskog's smile gets ever wider. "You're safe," he declares, which makes no sense to Noah, but makes Skinner turn even redder.

"I'm gonna order," Noah says, picking up his menu. "Sandwich? Burger? Who knows."

"Salad and a green tea for me," Landeskog says.

Skinner groans. "You could eat every dessert on the menu and not gain an ounce, and you choose salad and a green tea."

Noah narrows his eyes. "Wait, what?"

"That would be telling," Landeskog says cheerily. "And I happen to like salad."

"You also like pancakes," Skinner mutters. "And syrup, and whipped cream, and—"

"Get a sandwich," Noah interrupts. "Look, they have a roast beef club. You can have my pickles."

"Adorable," Landeskog coos, looking like he wants to put his chin in his hands and bat his eyelashes at them. Noah has no idea why Skinner thinks anything's wrong with him; he's the most upbeat guy Noah has met in a really long time.

They order and then make small talk while the waitress brings their drinks. It's not until she sets their meals down in front of them that Skinner's face goes serious. "Hey, Gabe, how's it been at the Pepsi Center?"

Landeskog makes a face. "Really? It's been shitty, Skinny. We're on pace to finish last place ever. Most days aren't fun."

"No," Skinner says carefully. "I don't mean mood, I mean…"

Landeskog doesn't say anything, waiting for Skinner to finish, but Noah can tell he's struggling to find the words. He puts his hand on the table so Landeskog's attention shifts, and he leans in a little. "We're pretty sure someone pulled an Edmonton, only somewhere else, and we think it might be in Denver."

It makes Landeskog's eyes go wide. " _What?_ No! There hasn't been anything like that around."

"Can you be sure?" Noah asks. He's not trying to be critical, but he's done a lot of reading. Demons can pull some tricky shit to hide their tracks, and if Landeskog isn't 100% human, who knows how it might affect him?

"Of course I'm sure," Landeskog says, narrowing his eyes at Noah. "Why would I not be sure?"

"Can I…" Skinner interjects, reaching his hand out.

Landeskog takes it without question. Skinner rolls his neck on his shoulders and nods twice in quick succession. The magic isn't anything that Noah's ever seen before; it's not like he's studied anything advanced, but this is beyond him even being able to guess at it. It makes Landeskog inhale sharply, though, and he says something that sounds like a swear in a language Noah can't place when a pale purple smoke starts drifting up from where they're touching.

"What the hell?" Noah asks, watching as it weaves and bobs around like smoke has no right to do.

"What's making it do that?" Landeskog says far too evenly, not moving his hand away from Skinner's at all. "It's not supposed to do that."

"Uh," Noah says, raising his hand a little. "What _is_ it?"

"His magic," Skinner says, frowning in concentration. "Or, well. What passes for magic when you're—like Gabe."

"It's my," Landeskog says, and then makes a sound that shouldn't be able to come out of his mouth. "Imagine if your magic was intertwined with your being, your self."

Noah's eyes go a little wide. "And it's wrong? And you didn't _notice_?"

"I've been a little distracted," Landeskog snaps. "What with the season my team is putting together."

It makes Noah swallow hard. He can't imagine having a bad enough season to not notice his magic was fucked up, and it sounds like Landeskog is much, much closer to his than Noah could ever be. Then again, he thinks, nobody noticed it was a demon in Edmonton for nearly thirty years. He can see how maybe it might have been missed in Denver.

"Can you tell what's doing it?" Landeskog asks urgently. He seems to be almost vibrating with tension everywhere but where he and Skinner are touching. It's really disconcerting; Noah's not sure how he never picked up on it before, the not-humanness that's bleeding out of Landeskog now. Either he does a good job of hiding it on a day-to-day basis, or Noah needs to start being a lot more careful.

Skinner shakes his head and sighs, letting go of Landeskog's hand. The smoke stays put, drifting and swirling unnaturally evenly above Landeskog's hand. "I can take a really, really good guess," he says.

"Shit," Landeskog mutters. He shakes his hand, and the smoke dissipates. It's the first remotely smoke-like behavior that Noah has seen from it. "What is it? Do you know?"

"I have no idea," Skinner says, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a demon. That's all I've got."

Landeskog repeats whatever he'd said before, the swear that doesn't sound at all familiar, and Noah's beginning to suspect it's because it's not any kind of human language. He wants to know so badly it's itching under his skin, but he bites his lip. It's not his place to ask.

"We'll be home for the next game," Landeskog says. "Maybe I can—"

"Don't you do a damn thing, Gabriel," Skinner says sharply, and it makes Noah turns to stare at him. It's not that Skinner doesn't have a non-bubbly side, but Noah's never seen him quite so adamant about something before. "You know better than to try to rush in without being prepared."

"I'm stronger than I was when we were kids," Landeskog says. Something flashes behind his eyes, and Noah would swear he smells rain. "I won't be hurt again."

"Or you could wait," Skinner returns, not backing down an inch. "We know it's a demon. We know where it is. We're there in three weeks; by the time we come to you, we'll know more."

Noah clears his throat, and they both turn to look at him. "I don't mean to be, like, rude," he says, "but there's no saving your season, man. Up your wards, warn your guys, but don't do anything until we know what we're dealing with."

Landeskog laughs darkly. "I can't believe you're telling me what to do."

Noah juts his chin out. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I shouldn't."

"Well, you definitely shouldn't, but you don't know that," Skinner says, voice much lighter. "But you're not wrong at all. Gabe, listen to a little reason here."

Landeskog closes his eyes and takes a few deep, even breaths, and as he does, some of the _other_ surrounding him fades away. "Fine," he says, finally opening his eyes back up. "Fine, I'll listen. I won't do anything until we know more."

"Promise," Noah says.

"He just did," Skinner says. "It's… complicated."

"You can say that again," Landeskog says, laughing humorlessly ."And I'm only doing this because I know you'll go above my head if I don't."

Skinner smiles sweetly. "I have never once had to call Backstrom, and I'd love never having to do it."

"Backstrom," Noah repeats. There's so much going on over his head here that he can't even begin to guess at. "Is this some kind of… Swedish thing?"

"Of a kind," Landeskog says, focusing back on Noah. "But only of a kind."

"Thanks," Noah mutters. "That's really helpful."

"I aim to please," Landeskog says. He looks the most like Noah remembers him that he has since they started talking, but Noah can't shake the knowledge that he's not 100% human no matter how hard he tries. Landeskog doesn't quite fit the mold, now that Noah's looking: too sharp in some places, too round in others, his edges not where Noah expects them to be when he focuses.

"You can ask," Skinner says, clearly amused. "I promise he doesn't bite." Landeskog snorts, and Skinner immediately flushes.

Noah looks back and forth between them before slowly shaking his head. "Nah, no thanks," he says. "I'm good."

-0-

Noah's at least half-asleep on the plane to Denver when he feels someone poke him in the side. He blinks awake, seeing Skinner smiling over at him.

"You're not where I left you," he says muzzily, trying to shake the sleep from his mind. He takes a deep breath and holds it, feeling the magic rush through him. He smiles as he exhales. "What's up?"

"I'm a little nervous," Skinner confesses, glancing around them. "I thought we'd know more by the time we had to face whatever was here, but instead…"

"Yeah," Noah says, nodding a little. Skinner hasn't gained any insight into whatever's going on, and Noah's kind of useless without anything new to go on. He reaches out and puts a hand on Skinner's knee, squeezing lightly. "We'll figure it out, right? We've got skate in the morning, so we'll have time before the game."

"I don't like it," Skinner says, briefly touching the back of Noah's hand. "I just… Gabe is more than able to keep himself safe, and he can probably extend that to a few teammates, but…"

"We'll figure it out," Noah repeats, because he doesn't know what else he can say. "At least we know we're heading into it, right? We've got that on our side."

"And Gabe," Skinner says. If Noah was a jealous kind of guy, he'd wonder, but he knows whatever Skinner and Landeskog had been is firmly in the past. He's not sure what his face does, though, because Skinner's lips lift in the hint of a smile. "You can ask, y'know."

"Nah," Noah says. "What's life without surprises?"

"Do you not want to know?" Skinner asks, tilting his head a little. "Because pretty much anyone else would've asked by now."

Noah hesitates a little. "It's not really… I don't know, my thing," he says. "If I need to know, if it's super important, then I'll ask? But otherwise…" He shrugs. "I'll take the information as it comes to me."

Skinner nods slowly. "Okay," he says. "I guess it's not super relevant, so I'll leave you in the dark for now."

"Works for me," Noah says, grinning. The seatbelt signs flash on above them, and Noah squeezes Skinner's knee once more before pulling his hand back. "You let me know if I need to know, okay? I'll leave that decision in your capable hands."

"Your faith in me is touching," Skinner says dryly, standing to head back to his seat. "See you in a bit."

"Yeah, see you," Noah echoes, watching as Skinner picks his way back towards the front of the plane.

The landing is uneventful, as is the trip to the hotel; Noah sleeps well, and wakes up ready to face whatever's waiting for them at the Pepsi Center. He's not sure what it is, not exactly, but he eats breakfast quickly so he can spend some time pouring extra magic into his personal wards. Better safe than possessed, or something.

They get on the bus to head to the rink, and Skinner reaches out to yank Noah into the seat beside him as he walks by. He blinks but sits, and Skinner lets out a sigh and puts his hand on Noah's knee, palm up. Noah takes it and just holds on. He's nervous too, now that they're right up against whatever's here. He hopes it doesn't know they're looking for it; his research had turned up a whole lot of nothing on whether or not demons are able to just _know_ stuff like that.

"We have to skate first," Noah says as they're getting off the bus. "Are we meeting Landeskog after? Can you make that happen?"

"Yeah, he'll be around when we're done," Skinner says, shooting Noah a smile. They're at the doors, and Noah takes a deep, fortifying breath before walking inside.

Skate is skate, which is to say that it's routine and uneventful and does nothing at all to distract Noah from the fact that he doesn't feel _anything_ like what he'd felt in Edmonton. There, though, the demon had been trying to disguise itself as a curse; maybe the demon here is hiding its tracks a little better. Noah doesn't know how to feel about that: this demon could be weaker and unable to do the flashy sort of thing, or it could be smart enough to not want to make its presence known, at least not right away.

He skates and he showers and he waits restlessly for the rest of the guys to dissipate, heading back to the bus so they can get their pre-game afternoons started. Skinner had made some excuse to the coaches, so nobody's really looking weird at him or Noah except Wardo, and he's always looking weird at someone.

He makes his way over as the last of the rest of the guys leave, sitting beside Noah on the bench. "Whatever you two are into," he starts.

"Cam," Skinner protests immediately, eyes widening by a fraction. He looks young and innocent, and Noah has to bite his lip to keep from laughing a little.

"I almost hope you're meeting up with one of the Avs for some kinky sex thing," Wardo mutters. "Except I know that it's magic-related, and I know that whatever it is, it's a big deal."

Noah doesn't say anything. He doesn't dare glance over at Skinner.

"Just," Wardo says, sighing. He stands up and digs in his pocket, pulling out two quarters. They look completely ordinary, but as soon as he drops one of them into Noah's hand, he can _feel_ the protective charms rolling off it. "Don't use these in the vending machines, okay? They have pretty much all I could spare over the last couple of months in them."

"Wardo," Noah says, stunned.

It makes Wardo smile. "And don't you forget it," he cracks.

Skinner groans. "Thanks," he says, and when Noah looks over, he's smiling. "Really, Wardo. This is—this could really help."

"I hope so," Wardo says. He looks kind of like he wants to ruffle Skinner's hair, but he doesn't. "Be safe, kids."

"We'll try," Noah mutters as Wardo heads out. He turns to Skinner. "Is Landeskog here?"

"Yeah," Skinner says, standing. "I'll text him. He said he'd meet us here when we were done."

Noah nods and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, then another, filling his lungs with air and feeling his magic swirl around. He lets it out slowly, paying attention the how it feels as it moves away, and doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe that's a good thing, Noah figures. Maybe the demon isn't in the visitors' locker room.

"Okay, let's do this," Skinner says confidently a moment later. Noah blinks his eyes open to see Skinner rolling his wrists, protection charm spreading over his skin. He nods at Noah. "C'mere, I'll do you, too."

Noah can't help his snort, and Skinner rolls his eyes and grins as he takes Noah's hand. The charm spreads like water, flowing over Noah's skin and settling in, and Skinner nods, satisfied, as Landeskog pokes his head in the door.

"Demon hunting," Landeskog says, an expression that's more knife than smile on his face. "Let's get this show on the road."

-0-

They don't find anything.

They spend two hours combing the ice, then the player areas, then the seating. They spread out and look for anything _wrong_ , anything that seems out of place. Landeskog does a lot of it, purple smoke swirling around as Noah breathes out and Skinner walks around popping his wrists.

"Guys," Skinner calls when they've covered the whole arena. "I think we need to call it a day."

"But," Landeskog protests. The smoke swirls around him, diving and darting before he takes a deep breath and it all stills, hanging in the air around him.

"We'll keep trying," Noah offers. "Just… we still have to play tonight. Maybe we can figure something out closer to game time."

"Maybe," Landeskog says. There's something objectively hilarious about him looking sullen, his too-bright eyes and perfect skin at odds with the pout he's wearing. It's not that Noah doesn't understand, though. If this was his team, he'd be tearing PNC Arena apart brick by brick until he figured it out.

"Later, Gabe," Skinner says gently. "Noah's got a point. Maybe it's more active during games; maybe we'll find it then."

"If a demon appears during puck drop, I'm blaming both of you," Landeskog says. There's humor in it, but there's a lot of tiredness, too. Noah already wanted to find the demon and get it the hell out of here, but he's struck by a sudden desire to do _better_ , to make sure, somehow, that this doesn't happen to anyone again.

"We'll figure it out," he says confidently, clapping Landeskog on the shoulder. "Go home, eat something, take a nap. I want to make sure we don't beat you tonight because you didn't prepare the right way."

"Oh, it's _on_ ," Landeskog says, eyes lighting up even more. Noah doesn't want to look away, but he's a little afraid of how bright they are. "We're gonna polish the ice with you."

Skinner sticks his tongue out and grabs Noah's hand, tugging him away. "Enemies now, bye!" he calls as they walk back towards the visitors' locker room.

It doesn't take them long to get everything together and call a cab; the hotel isn't too far away, but by the time they're nearly there, Skinner has dropped his head against Noah's shoulder. He might actually be sleeping.

"Hey," Noah says gently, patting Skinner's leg when they pull up to the hotel. "C'mon, bed's more comfortable than me."

"Lies," Skinner mumbles, smiling sleepily up at Noah. "Your roommate sleeping?"

"Probably," Noah says, shrugging, as they get out of the car. "He'll deal."

"Nah, c'mon," Skinner says, pressing the button for the elevator. "Crash with me."

"Yeah?" Noah asks, hoping his voice doesn't sound as excited by the prospect as he feels. It's very definitely the sleeping kind of "crash with me," and yet here he is, heart beating a little faster.

"I can test whether or not the bed is more comfortable than you," Skinner says, laughing at the expression on Noah's face. He leads the way down the hall, opening up the door with his keycard and bowing with a flourish as he holds the door open.

"Ooh, fancy," Noah teases as he walks in. It's identical to the room he's sharing with Aho, except the other bed has a suitcase on it instead of another person.

Skinner laughs and bolts the door. "Nap," he orders. "I'm wiped out, and I'm no good to anyone on the ice this way."

"Sounds good to me," Noah says. They strip to their underwear in silence; Noah's starting to feel it, too, the crash after using so much energy. By the time they're both in the bed, Noah's almost asleep; the last thing he consciously does before dropping off is wrap his arm around Skinner's shoulders, holding him tight against his chest.

-0-

It's a sound that wakes Noah.

It's light in the room, blackout curtains not doing much to beat out the midday Denver sun, and it takes Noah a few seconds to place what's going on: morning skate, demon hunting, nap with Skinner. Skinner, who's now thrashing a little in Noah's arms, who's making a terrified noise deep in his chest.

"Hey," Noah says, shifting until they're side-by-side. Skinner's eyes are still closed, but Noah can see them moving quickly beneath his eyelids. "Hey, wake up. It's just a dream; wake up, c'mon."

Skinner gasps, deep and drawn out, and bolts upright in bed. He looks around frantically, casting his eyes over the television, the mini-fridge, the bathroom door, before turning to face Noah. His face is chalk-white.

"Jeff," Noah says, slowly and clearly. He reaches out to cup his elbow, running his thumb gently along the trembling skin there. "Hey, it's me. You're safe."

"I saw it," Skinner whisper. "Noah. I know what it is."

Noah sucks in a sharp breath and sits. "What is it? What are we up against?"

"It's the demon from Edmonton," Skinner says, voice bleak. "It's Puck."

**Author's Note:**

> -DUN DUN DUN. sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger!
> 
> -the next piece in this series will be the grand finale! we're almost there, folks.
> 
> -bonus question time! if you're curious about a certain story point, or outside thing in this universe, or anything of the kind, let me know in the comments. i'll answer all non-spoilery questions between now and the time i post the final story.
> 
> -also, if you have predictions/guesses for who/what is responsible for letting puck out, i would /love/ to hear them. i've left hints, and i'm wondering if anyone has picked them up, hehe :D
> 
> -[follow me on tumblr](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com) for hockey stuff. lots. ETA: also for snippets of the final piece as i write it! check out the "sleep tight verse" tag :)


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